


From The Start

by AsuraCalling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Post-Great War, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsuraCalling/pseuds/AsuraCalling
Summary: Percy Weasley is completely alright with being a social recluse outside of work in the years following the Great War.Unfortunately, Molly Weasley seems to have different plans for him when she sees a certain ex-Slytherin in his bed.





	1. Crave You

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Downwiththewind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downwiththewind/pseuds/Downwiththewind) in the [HPprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HPprompts) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Marcus and Percy ran into each other at a bar, years after graduation. Totally inebriated, they fell in bed together. The next morning, Molly came by Percy's flat unannounced and caught them in the act. She misunderstood the situation and think Marcus is his boyfriend. Molly was shocked but at the same time relieved, her son wasn't pulling away from his family again, he just didn't know how to tell them that he was gay. Percy didn't have the heart to tell her that it wasn't true, he was just sick of his family looking at him like he was a failure. Percy convinced Marcus to pretend to be his boyfriend. So they began a friends with benefits relationship that occasionally attend family gathering. 
> 
> Only bottom!Percy, please.

Percy was decidedly _not_ having fun.

 

Having returned to the Ministry of Magic a while after the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy could say he genuinely enjoyed working under the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. The man was efficient, sharp-witted and understood that Percy was completely alright with remaining a social recluse for the rest of his career.

 

He just wanted to curl up on his well-worn Chesterfield and watch _Gone With the Wind_ on the telly for the thousandth time, for Merlin’s sake. Was that honestly all that much to ask for?

 

As the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, he couldn’t be seen gallivanting around town, _especially_ to wizarding bars.

 

A sardonic smile graced his thin lips. There had been a time, well over six to seven years ago when such a grand title would have made him puff his chest out in pride like a peacock ready for mating.

Time, loss and being harshly pulled back to the ground over and over again had firmly reminded Percy of his place in the world.

 

The burn of ambition had simmered down to disappointed looks every time he stepped into the Burrow and a drowning despair he didn’t know how to escape from.

 

Moving on to the more grave matters at hand, Percy huffed for the third time as a man’s elbow clipped him on the shoulder. The woman responsible for dragging him deeper into the dingy club paid no mind to his discomfort, her hand an iron brand around his slim wrist.

 

Merida Weebly, his trusty assistant, decided to hold her twenty-fifth birthday in a bar, inviting her close friends. Percy still couldn’t wrap his head around how the Irish-English woman who snuck salt instead of sugar into his tea every Tuesday (when was he going to stop falling for that?), would consider someone as socially inept as Percy as her best friend.

 

But she did. And Percy was grateful to have someone who kicked his arse into moving from the settee to a park bench on the weekends.  

 

“Perce!” “Oi, look who made it!”

“Weasley, you wanker. Finally graced us with your presence, eh?”

 

Multiple voices jovially greeted the redhead, who blinked behind his horn-rimmed glasses in surprise. Less so at the familiar Ministry faces, but at the enthusiastic greeting.

 

A smile tugged at his lips as something warm spread from his chest to every part of his body. There was something intoxicating about being recognized. Wanted.  

Merida gave him an encouraging smile.

 

Adjusting his Ministry cloak, “Hullo. It’s good to see you all… in different circumstances.”

His breath stuttered as they chuckled.

 

Wilkie Twycross, one of the Apparition instructors, rolled his eyes and leaned forward, his lips moving but Percy could barely hear anything over the pounding bass.

“Pardon?” he said, motioning to his ears.

 

“A drink?”

 

“Water, please.”

 

Twycross rolled his eyes again and slid over a tall mug of questionable origins that definitely didn’t look like something Percy wanted to drink if he was planning on preserving his dignity for the next couple of hours.

 

But was he?

 

Percy wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure of anything anymore.

Exhausted; exhausted of thinking and having to make decisions and analysing everywhere he went wrong from the moment he stepped into Hogwarts to the time of the great Battle.

Twycross seemed to sense his inner struggle, because the older man placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder with a -frankly- fatherly smile.

“It’s alright, lad. I’ve got you.”

 

And didn’t that just make Percy want to start bawling his eyes out. But he couldn’t; a glance in Merida’s direction where she was grinning madly at a joke and her eyes laughing. So he nodded, taking a small sip.

 

And nearly hacked it back up.

It slid like Firewhiskey down his throat and made heat pool in his stomach, making his toes tingle and eyes water. He faintly registered Twycross guffawing, and managed a weak glare in the man’s general direction.

 

But he didn’t dare question what it was. He trusted Twycross wouldn’t let him do anything embarrassing like splinch himself on the way home.

 

Leaning back against the bar, Percy’s eyes roamed the many faces; dark kohl and closed eyes, some serene faces. Bodies pushed flush against each other and loud laughter and hoots. He could feel the beat of the generic music beneath his feet and pulsing like his own heartbeat.

 

It was a split second thing. If he had blinked, he would have missed it.

The crowd parted a mere sliver, and dark eyes met his before disappearing.

 

He could have recognized that face anywhere.

 

The high forehead and inquisitive raised brow.

 

Percy was thrust back into memories of Oliver ranting through Charms in hushed tones about the cruel Slytherin quidditch captain. Snickering about the severe overbite (was it? Percy had seen a very different mouth a moment ago) and crooked teeth. Eyes glancing over the quidditch portion of the Daily Prophet which, no doubt, had photographs of the man zooming about on his- whatever upgraded version of the Firebolt it was.

 

Marcus Flint had definitely lost the quarter-troll look he sported during their Hogwarts years.

 

Percy scowled. That was the last person he wanted to see here. But he just didn’t bloody _care_.

 

So he downed the disgusting Firewhiskey-concoction in three goes.

 

Ten minutes later, Percy had thrown off his Ministry robe to reveal whatever mortifying outfit Merida had picked for him tonight, but he is too sloshed to bother with embarrassment.

 

Twelve minutes, and he was on the dancefloor, much to the amusement and wild encouragement of his mates. He felt big hands slid down to his hips and pull him flush arse-to-erection back as a woman moved to plaster herself to his front.

He rocked back against the unknown man with a groan as wet lips moved to suck his earlobe. The brunette woman’s fingers brushing his belt. A clear indication.

 

Fifteen minutes and Percy dimly realized he really, _really_ had to use the loo, and stumbled off the floor, much to the annoyance of his two enthusiastic partners.

 

 _Bloody hell, drinks really do something to your_ _bladder_ , he thought with the startling clarity of a drunk who doesn’t know how far they’re gone. Stepping out of the not-so-clean stall, Percy stopped dead in his tracks.

 

Marcus Flint. And company, apparently. Percy was more shocked about the fact that a Slytherin from a pureblood family would be allowed to publicly express his preference for blokes. But then again, the War had changed everyone.

 

Flint’s back to him as he seemed to press the other wizard harder against the wall. Percy’s alcohol-flushed face reddened further as the slight wizard moaned into Flint’s mouth when he dug his fingers into his hip.

 

Why couldn’t Percy stop _staring?_

 

It was bloody rude. But wasn’t Flint super rude _anyway_? If he hadn’t been such an arse, Percy’s little crush on his best friend would have been easier to handle. But no, when Oliver talked quidditch, Flint would come up and Percy was left fuming about how little Oliver seemed to care about anything else. And he was straight, which had left Percy at loss on how to deal with his budding sexuality. Confiding in anyone was out of the question. The oldest Weasley of the brood, not only a disappointment to his family but a poof as well?

 

Some things were meant to be taken to the grave.

 

And what even gave Flint the right to look so fit after being such a brute in school, both literally and figuratively? If anything, he ought to take that overbite - the stupid one he probably paid galleons for to get fixed - and shove off and stop ruining Percy’s night by standing there and snogging some idiot like he wanted to suck his soul out like a bloody Dementor.

It’s not like dingy bathrooms are a good place to snog, either way.

 

So in a fit of justified, intoxicated indignation, Percy marched up to the couple and roughly yanked at Flint’s broad shoulder.

 

“Hey!” the other wizard protested but Percy paid him no mind.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Flint’s pretty eyebrows drew together in surprise. “Weasley?”

 

Percy sniffed. Even his arousal-roughened voice sounded nice. He poked Flint hard in the chest. “Who d’you think it is-” gesturing wildly to his head, “This mop is like a signboard.”

 

A raised brow. “You’re pissed.”

 

“Oh shut up.” Percy mumbled, bravado slowly fading. Suspiciously, “I didn’t know you were into blokes. And another thing! You’re following me around. I saw you at Harry’s charity gala last week, and… somewhere a month before that. And what happened to your face anyway? A dental surgery?” He grabbed at Flint’s chin and pulled him down for closer inspection.

 

Flint calmly swatted his hand away. “No to both, and I’m not _following_ you. As self-obsessed as always, I see.”

 

“We were kind of in the middle of something-” the bloke pressed against the wall spoke up and Percy cut him off, “ _Self-obsessed_ ?” he cried. “I’m not self-obsessed! You absolute arse. I came to tell you that you can’t _possibly_ be gay because I have met your father and he’s a right conservative if there ever was one-”

 

And then there were warm, rough lips pressed to his and Percy gasped in surprise, scrabbling for purchase at Flint’s jacket as the older man cupped his face in his hands.

 

Oh, now Percy was _definitely_ getting hard.  

 

The other, unimportant creature in the background protested but Percy ignored him for the teeth gently tugging at his lower lip.

 

“Best leave them alone, lad. Go look somewhere else.” Twycross’ soft voice called and Percy pulled away, heart pounding.

 

“Ah-”

 

Twycross smirked.

 

“I’ve got to-” Percy said uselessly, gesturing to the quidditch player holding onto him like a barnacle.

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

“We’ll be off now.” he attempted a smile, embarrassed beyond measure and glanced back at Flint, who nodded.

 

With the sharp crack of Side-Along Apparition, Percy Apparated them back to his flat and was, in five seconds flat, right where he had wanted to be since the beginning of the night: on his Chesterfield.

Except with the added bonus of a very solid Marcus Flint straddling him. He supposed he should have been ashamed that he was betraying Oliver for snogging his school-nemesis, but Flint’s devouring kisses were more intoxicating than any effects Firewhiskey could have on him.

 

And oh- Percy groaned as Flint’s nails dragged along his scalp. Deciding that he wasn’t participating enough, Percy leaned forward to recapture Flint’s plush lips and slid his hands down that sinewy back.

 

Flint shuddered under his fingers and pulled back slightly, and Percy chased him with a whine. “Bed.”

 

Percy blinked. “Oh, right, of course.”

 

Flint chuckled as Percy stumbled to his feet, hair thoroughly mussed and, “Did you pick this out yourself?”

 

A tug at Percy’s t-shirt. “Eh?” He glanced down at himself and groaned. Of course he wouldn’t have kept his Ministry cloak on. In Merida’s (and his, if he was being completely honest) enthusiasm, Percy was dressed in white-washed jeans and a tee with a neck that stopped right below his pectorals.

 

He automatically covered his chest and mumbled, “Don’t stare, it’s rude.” He moved towards his room, expecting Flint to follow.

 

Percy started when Flint let out a rumbling laugh and thick arms slid around his waist. A shudder at Flint’s obvious arousal. _I did that_ , Percy thought giddily.

 

He turned in the embrace and wrapped his arms tight around Flint’s shoulders, seeking kiss after kiss from the man’s willing mouth.

He was pushed back until he sat down on the bed, pulling his gorgeous partner down with him. A hand on his bare chest forced him down. Flint -was it the time to call him Marcus?- grinned down at him, all perfectly-aligned teeth with a hint of a gap between the front two. A reminder about who exactly this was.

 

“I’d rather not grow old while we’re at this, if you don’t mind.” Percy wiggled under Flint, trying to get some friction on his nearly-aching erection.

 

Flint rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt over his head. Percy may be guilty of drooling. But that muscle definition. Merlin, the things he wanted to do to this man. Percy’s fingertips trailed over Flint’s abdomen and down his sides, and back up to tweak a nipple. A sharp intake of breath; blue eyes met molten grey.

 

The next kiss felt strangely intimate. Flint’s tongue mapped out Percy’s mouth, his hands nudging at the white jeans’ buttons and pulling them off to leave Percy in his pants. The redhead wasn’t particularly self-conscious of his physique, but a level of mistrust for Slytherins in some subconscious part of his brain forced him to keep his hands steady on Flint’s shoulders. It was also nice to feel the muscle shifting and straining under his skin as he leaned over Percy.

 

 

Lips latched onto the joint between his neck and shoulder, and Percy keened as Flint rocked his hips forward against his. He canted his hips upwards, fingers tugging at short-cropped hair as a litany of moans escaped him.

 

Flint was brushing his hand against Percy’s cock, slipping his hand inside the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation’s pants and squeezing gently.

 

And then he was _gone_. Percy almost screamed, settling for glaring at the hazy form of Flint without his glasses on. “What?” he snapped, and saw a smirk on the ex-Slytherin’s face.

 

“Ask.” a whispered breath.

And Percy didn’t need to know what for.

 

“Will a ‘please’ work?” Flint snorted, and shook his head.

 

“Bloody purebloods with their superiority complexes.” Percy grumbled, and felt more than heard Flint shake with silent laughter.

 

“I’m waiting.” A gentle grind down onto Percy’s still-raging hard-on.

 

“I-” And suddenly he felt it. A sharp exhale, Percy sat up so rapidly his head spun.

Fingers touched his shoulder and he stared with wide eyes at a frowning Flint.

Percy covered his mouth with shaking hands.

 

“Alright?”

 

Percy couldn’t reply. Well, he could have, but he was too busy throwing up over the side of his bed.

 

Merlin. Not how he imagined his night to go.

* * *

 

Marcus Flint just stared at the red-haired, blue-eyed man who he had been snogging two minutes ago vomit all over the bed. At least it wasn’t on him.

 

And then Percy promptly blacked out.

 

“Fucking lightweight.” he grumbled, gingerly stepping off the bed and pulling out his wand to cast a very thorough _Scourgify_ over the mess, and the man responsible. Maybe a cinnamon-scent charm while he was at it.

 

Flint scowled down at Weasley. First he walks into a pub -the last place Flint would expect the uptight man to go-, proceeds to get completely pissed, ruins Flint’s chances at a partner for the night and insults him. Kissing the man seemed like the only way to get him to shut up, also because he was curious about how Weasley would react.

 

And did he react favorably; throwing his arms around Flint’s neck and enthusiastically kissing him back until all Flint wanted to think of was the squirming, panting mess he wanted to create of the man in his arms.

 

Now, Flint flicked a strand of hair out of Weasley’s face with a shake of his head.

 

He flinched with blue eyes blearily looked up at him, and a mere whispered “Stay,” before the idiot was out again.

 

Marcus sighed. He might as well; he wasn’t particularly looking forward to going back home to an empty penthouse with only a stunning view and his hand to keep him company.

 

Checking under the covers to make sure there wasn’t any residual vomit, Marcus slipped in beside Weasley.

 

Who would have thought of it; Marcus Flint willingly, platonically sleeping in the same bed as Percy Weasley?

 

Until Weasley rolled over and threw a leg over his, pressed his front to Flint’s side and nuzzled into his shoulder. He could feel his cock weeping for release.

 

Not so platonically, then.

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell. That was a challenge. I started this in the hopes that a deadline would give me some motivation in life; it was exhausting. But I hope I (sort of) started what you were hoping for, Downwiththewind. First prompt challenge, first almost-sex scene, and I promise I'll live up to that Explicit rating. 
> 
> \- Asura


	2. Blow Him (Away)

There was a lot of light. 

  
Like, there was a lot of bloody light coming from  _somewhere_ and Percy wanted it gone this very instant. His everything hurt, damn it. He burrowed further into the warmth of his bed, fingers tightening and pressing conjoined hands into his stomach in a gentle show of affection. 

He'd like to say he had a moment of insight and his eyes snapped open and he leapt off the bed in his haste to get away, completely unaware of yesterday's happenings, but Merlin did hate him. 

 

Because Percy quite clearly remembered puking somewhere before or after grinding his erection up into Marcus Flint's. 

 

 _Oh god_ , he groaned. Did no one want him to live happily?   
He stood up a Slytherin in bed, for Merlin's sake. And not in a good way. _Because_ , Percy mused, shifting onto his back to peek up at the gently-snoring man beside him,  _this was definitely someone I wouldn't mind going all the way with._

The redhead slipped on his glasses and out of bed, mindful of Flint. Not that he was going to wake; the Chaser had been rumored to sleep like the dead since their Hogwarts days.

 

A grimace; the taste in his mouth made him want to vomit all over again, and brushing thoroughly (perhaps twice) was the first on his list for today. And then perhaps waiting for Flint to wake up and leave. Followed by sleeping. And a few Ministry documents to attend to. 

Perhaps he ought to take a look into the office while he was at it? the man thought, wandering out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of tea pressed to his lips. 

 

He leaned against his bedroom's doorframe, casually observing Flint as he slept. 

 

He hadn't truly changed much over the years, appearance wise. Besides that jawline. Percy really would bet a hundred galleons on a dental surgery. Dark hair spiked up on the white pillows, a toned arm thrown over Percy's side of the bed (oh, they had sides now?) and -Percy's breath caught, tea fogging up his glasses- the curve of his  _gorgeous_ arse. 

 

He could start to see the appeal in Quidditch. 

 

A huff. He ran a hand through his hair (he wasn't graying; bloody Rita Skeeter) with a scowl.   
  
But Flint had changed as a person. Percy could feel it in the way he spoke to him, the way he clearly took care of a knocked-out Percy. And stayed the night. Or was this just a plan to get into Percy's pants? He was a Weasley, unmarried, impossibly gay and obviously pathetic enough to want Flint. Oliver's  _nemesis_ , he firmly reminded himself. 

 

A nemesis who let out the cutest snort and crinkled his nose, only to bury his face into Percy's pillow. 

 

Crikey. Percy left the mug on the dresser and walked up to Flint, perching on the edge of the bed and leaning down to cup Flint's jaw; press his mouth to the corner of the quidditch star's. Flint really did have pretty lashes. They flickered as the man stirred, and grey eyes blinked up at him. 

 

"Weasley?"

 

"Flint."

 

The two men just stared at each other, before Percy cracked a small smile. Confidence lead him to sliding the covers off Flint to reveal black pants and straddling the beautiful man in his bed. Flint's eyes were wide, unsure as Percy mouthed at his jaw before easing down the Chaser's body and pulling the black pants off.

 

He inhaled sharply for the second time this morning as he took in Flint’s cock. It was as gorgeous as the rest of him; clean shaven, and rapidly hardening in Percy’s hand.

 

“May I?”

 

Flint just stared, before giving a nod. Percy started slow, small kitten licks to the head and Flint’s hips twitched under him. Fingers roughened from hours battling the elements on a broom gently curled into his hair. A sleep-heavy voice moaned as Percy swallowed him down to the base with a ghost of a smirk.

 

“Weasley- you’re- _oh fuck._ ” Hasty murmurs as Percy wrapped his lips tight around Flint’s erection and lost himself in the long-forgotten familiarity of sucking cock.  He’d always loved it; a sense of intimacy unachievable even with the most amorous lovemaking. The smooth slide of spit-slick lips over steel-hard flesh, eyes watering slightly as Flint’s hips bucked up into wet warmth and a hiss as Percy hollowed his cheeks, dragging his lips up to nip at the head.

 

He came undone because of _Percy_. And that kind of power was intoxicating to someone who felt out of control of his emotions and decisions in general.

 

And Flint was shuddering, tugging Percy off by the hair as he came _hard_ , painting the redhead’s chest white like a canvas he laid claim to. And he definitely claimed Percy’s mouth, heaving the man forward to snog him breathless, hands pulling Percy’s pants down to cup his arse.

 

Flint tasted like morning breath and spit and Percy was completely alright with it because when he pulled away the grey eyes were as warm as Percy’s tea had been.  

 

“Morning.” he whispered, unwilling to break the gaze that had him pinned.

 

And he was struck hard again when Flint’s lips pulled up in a stunning smile, the small gap between his two front teeth as endearing as the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and Percy _couldn’t take it_ . He leaned forward to press a close-mouthed kiss to the man’s lips, because his heart was thumping harder than his post-hangover head and he just wanted to grin like a fool and tell Flint… _something_. Anything.

 

A kiss would do.

 

Raised a hand to cradle Marcus’s head in his hands like something precious; if the ex-Slytherin sensed anything different, he didn’t comment on it besides tightening his hold on Percy’s arse. The ginger sighed into his mouth. Merlin, he could do this fore-

 

“Goodness, boys, do learn to close the door.”

 

“Merlin, Mum!” Percy yanked himself away from Flint, taking barely a moment to admire the wizard’s kiss-reddened lips and surprised expression before bolting out the door behind him mother, pulling his pants back up.

 

 _Bloody hell,_  he panicked, _that’s definitely not something she should have seen. I hope she didn’t recognize him. Oh god what if she lectures me on safe sex? I hope Flint doesn’t come out yet._

 

Molly Weasley was putting delicate looking treacle tarts on Percy’s dining table, and looked up with a smile.

  
“I- what are you doing here?” he blurted out, blushing.

  
“I just dropped by to see how you were holding up. Quite well, by the looks of it.” A devious smile flitted across her round face and Percy was at loss for words.

 

“Er, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

 

“Oh nonsense,” his mother waved a hand, “I’ve been seeing your bottom since you were a baby, boy. No need to act so embarrassed.”

 

“Merlin,” he whispered faintly, mortified beyond belief.

 

Molly _tsked_ , and headed out into the living room. Percy followed her dazedly; outing himself to his mother _now_ wasn’t how he imagined his day would go.

 

She sat down on the Chesterfield (Percy had to squeeze out thoughts of what transpired there last night) and patted the seat beside her. He sat.

 

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about, Percy?” Her wrinkling hands took his and squeezed gently.

 

His throat closed up. “Uh-”

 

“Preferring men isn’t a problem for us, love. I did know you weren't romantically inclined as a teenager; never occurred to me that you'd be interested in the opposite gender. Though I do wish you had told me earlier, I wouldn’t have wasted time looking for witches.”

 

He choked. “Mother!”

 

But Molly Weasley ignored him, continuing, “I’m just glad you’ve found someone for yourself, now. After- after Fred and everything being so hard, I know you’ve struggled quite a bit too.”  
Percy felt overwhelmed by the helplessness as his mother’s eyes shone with unshed tears at the mention of Fred, and could only squeeze her hand tighter.  
He completely missed her reference to his not-so-single status.

 

She gave him a watery smile before wiping her eyes.

 

“Now,” and Percy felt a sense of unease at her sudden brisk, no-nonsense tone, “Who is this lad?”

 

Percy blinked. “Marcus Flint?”

The answer automatic and he wished he hadn’t told her when he saw her raised brow.

 

“Well, I suppose we all do change as we grow up-” Percy’s sentiments _exactly_ , “but your father and I would definitely want to meet him sometime.”

 

“What?” _What?_ Why on earth would he invite Flint over to the Burrow? They weren’t even-

“No, mother, wait, we aren’t… together.”

 

Molly Weasley stared at her third eldest, incredulous. “Not together? With the way you two were at it?”

 

“Mother, _please_ , can we not talk about it-”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Denial isn’t good for the heart, Percy. Now, Bill and Fleur’s wedding anniversary is coming up, he can come to that. How long have you two been together now?”

 

And Percy could just stare at her.

 

He knew his mother genuinely cared so much about him, willing to take him back like the prodigal son even after he’d been such an _arse_ , picking work over family, that now, seeing her hopeful expression he couldn’t formulate an answer. He knew she had no issues with homosexuality - Bill was bisexual - but her easy acceptance of his sexual orientation; the thought of letting her down again made him want to wince.

 

So he did the best he could and prayed Flint would be willing to go along with it for a night. Or he could pretend they broke up not long after.

 

“Not… not long.” It was the truth, anyway.

 

"I'm just glad you aren't leaving us again, darling." she smiled, and the  _again_ cut deep. Percy had a feeling she was talking more than physical separation. 

 

Molly stood. “Good. It’ll be a good opportunity to have you home for a bit; I’ve some books in the attic for you.”

 

He could only nod, following her out to the front door.

 

She stepped out into the hall and turned to face Percy. He narrowed his eyes. “Did you break in, mother?”

 

Molly huffed. “I rang the bell twice after Floo-calling you. You’ve warded your Floo again. I could only be worried about my son, couldn’t I?”

 

A cheeky smile. Percy pursed his lips as she pecked him on the cheek. "You've got some-" she gestured to his chest before Apparating away. 

 _Fuck_ , he cursed. He hadn't cleaned up before running behind her.   
There was only so much embarrassment he could feel. 

 

Leaned heavily against the door; scrubbed a hand down his face. Tired.

 

A sigh; he shut the door and headed back to his bedroom, intent on explaining things to Flint, only to find the wizard gone.

 

And he had finished the tea. Percy groaned.

  
You never really could trust a Slytherin, could you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am lazy. I am so sorry. 
> 
> \- Asura


	3. (Don't Let Your Owl) Bite Me

_To: PR Department of the Falmouth Falcons_  
_Magical Sports Office_ _  
Diagon Alley _

 

_To whosoever this may concern, please forward the disclosed letter to the concerned quidditch player of the Falmouth Falcons. **Ensure you do not read it while checking for curses.**_

 

_Regards,_

_Head of the Department of Magical Transportation_

* * *

 

_Dear Mr. Flint,_

  
_First, I would like to assure you that I do not make it a habit to maintain contact with partners who show no interest from their sides after a short time of acquaintance. However, the same circumstances that forced me to rather hastily take leave two days ago now reappear with a distressing catch. I understand you have no interest in acquainting yourself with me, but if you'll be so obliging, I'd like to meet up with you sometime this week to discuss pressing matters regarding my parent's understanding of our relationship (or lack thereof)._

_I await a reply at the earliest date._

_Best,_

_Percival Weasley_  
_Head of the Department of Magical Transportation_

_  
_

Hell, did he sound too formal? He  _was_ the Head of a department in the Ministry, after all. He has a right to be, he sniffed. 

 

 _Dear Mr. Weasley,_  
  
_Did you just assume I don't want to get to know you because I left while you outed yourself to your mum? Some conversations are best left private. Including this one._

_I can't meet up. We have a series of test matches against the Appleby Arrows in a month. Just owl me, Grignon will know where I am._

_I'm not going to pose as your fuckboy, Weasley._

 

_Marcus Flint  
Chaser, Falmouth Falcons_

 

Percy thought two things at this. One, Flint's handwriting was illegible. Second, Grignon was a goddamned  _beast_. A huge Great Horned with reddish-black feathers and angry eyes that glared at Percy as he struggled to find a treat for... her. 

 _Flint liked him,_ he grinned. Wanted to get to know him, same difference.  

 

_Dear Mr. Flint,_

_I assure you I'll keep this as well-disclosed as possible. It's completely alright; I do understand the pressing demands of being a member of a quidditch team. Quite taxing._

_Mr. Flint, I definitely of all things do not want you to... pose as my "fuckboy". I cringe at the mere thought. If you overheard our conversation that morning, my parents believe I have reached the age where I am required to settle down with a suitable individual. They, unfortunately for you, hope that individual would be you. I cannot force anything, but I hold my parents' regard quite highly and cannot bear to lie to them._

_Do try and understand a man's plight._

_Best,_

_Percival Weasley_  
_Head of the Department of Magical Transportation_

Percy bit his lip as he waited for the ink to dry. He knew it was a risky bet, telling Flint exactly why he needed him to attend a family dinner. But it was already Thursday and he only had until Sunday to convince Flint. 

 

_Weasley,_

_Stop talking like the pompous arse you sounded like in school. And you're just calling it taxing because you gape at my arms and ass like a perv. No need to cover yourself up here._

_And no, I can't come this Sunday. Rest day, you see. Just tell her I have training._

_Marcus Flint_

_P.S. Can you give Grignon a treat, I've run out and she's trying to peck the skin off my hands._

 

Percy's indignant expression went on Merida's photo scrapbook. 

 

_Mr Flint,_

_You... are definitely a man of as few words as you were in Hogwarts. And I do not gape at your arms! ~~Nevermind how powerful I imagine they would be if you lift me in the~~ \- Do have some decorum, I cannot use Ministry owls for these sort of personal purposes but mine is currently- unavailable. _

_And I cannot tell her you have training; you forget my sister Ginny played for the Holyhead Harpies and my mother knows players' schedules._

_I promise I won't bother you after this, but it would honestly help get her off my back for at least a year. Hopefully._

_And if you like, we can make this a mutually beneficial encounter. I'd like to invite you back to my place on Sunday so we can (properly) finish what we started.  
Please don't make me spell it out; I trust even having failed seventh year once wouldn't make you immune to what I'm indicating. _

 

_Regards,_

_Percy Weasley_

 

There. He didn't even sign with his official Ministry seal this time. And fuck Grignon, Percy didn't even let her into his office.  
But he was nice enough to nudge a tiny tart piece onto the window sill.

 

_Weasley,_

_My teammates think I'm having an affair with the number of letters you've sent me in the past three days.  
_

_And, are you fucking messing with me right now? A "mutually beneficial encounter"? Do I look like a prostitute or an escort to you, Weasley? I was this close to accepting because I was raised to have the decency to save a partner's arse, especially if said partner was you._

_Don't owl me, I'm not fucking going to your brother's dinner-whatever party if you think you can just buy me off now by letting me stick one in you and get off and get kicked right out the bloody door._

 

_Flint_

 

 _Oh shit_ , Percy groaned, head banging onto the desk as he read Flint's -clearly- furious letter. Furious enough that the handwriting nearly tore the parchment. 

He honestly hadn't meant for it to sound that way. And now he had to borrow Merida's tawny, since Grignon left him with nothing but an ink-splattered desk and a tuft of his hair. It was  _Friday_. 

Shit. Shit shit shit shitty _shit_. 

He ignored his mother's fire-call in his haste to respond.

 

_Dear Flint,_

_I do apologize, I honestly hadn't meant for you to take it that way. I only meant I wanted to spend more time with you, and since we began on a sexual note, I assumed you'd like to continue on it. It's in moments like these that we forget to let go of old conceptions from the War times despite so much evidence pointing against it. You were kind enough to take care of me that Saturday night and I completely forgot to ~~verbally~~ thank you for that.   
I hope you'll take this brunch as my thanks. _

_Please believe me, I would never use you only for sex. I haven't given any reason to prove otherwise, as we're mere acquaintances from the past, but I'd like to. Do come, I should like to get to know you better._

_But if you absolutely must take your rest day, I completely understand._

 

_Percy Weasley_

_P.S. I'm not trying to bribe you, but I can promise a lifetime supply of Floo powder as compensation for my insensitive wording._

_P.P.S. What do you mean, especially if said partner is me?_

 

Percy stared at the parchment; at his smooth cursive and nearly-desperate words. He'd never apologized to anyone this way, not even Penelope when they'd broken up.  _No,_ Percy flushed _, I was too busy bawling over losing out on our relationship because I couldn't be with a woman_. And she had been so understanding, bless her. 

But there was something about Flint, a gentleness lurking behind those turbulent grey eyes and an affection in his lips when they pressed against Percy's- he shivered at the thought. Shifted in his seat at the thought. 

It was late in the evening on Friday and Percy was resigned to seeing his mother's disappointed expression. 

Again. 

It wouldn't be the last, he knew. 

* * *

 

The next letter shocked Percy in the wee hours of Sunday morning. So much so that he could only gape at the gorgeous falcon as he impatiently held out a clawed foot with a rolled parchment with the Flint family seal. 

It's contents were short. 

 

_I'm only doing this because your post script was slightly amusing._

_What time._

_Flint_

 

Percy huffed out the smallest of laughs, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He was- Merlin, he was  _excited_. So pleased that Flint had - of sorts, at least - forgiven him; agreed to come. Surely this meant he liked Percy, even just a little bit? He didn't even care that Flint hadn't given him his Floo address for faster communication.   
He would take whatever he got at this point. 

The stately-looking falcon let out a squawk as Percy flung himself off the bed and scrambled around for a piece of parchment and a quill before collapsing back onto his bed to write a response like a teenage girl writing to her first crush.

 

 _Today around 10. Everyone comes at different times so we can be a little late.  
_ _Thank you, Flint. It means a lot to me._

 

_Percy Weasley_

He included the Burrow's Floo address, and practically shooed the irritated avian out of his window. Grinning as he watched it soar over the breaking dawn. He had a feeling Marcus was awake too. He could feel it.

 

_Fine._

_I thought about it; I think I want your arse too. Like you said. Compensation._

  _Flint_

 

Percy couldn't remember the last time he laughed so hard over something that wasn't even that funny.  

 

_That's just ridiculous. Technically, it's my arse; it's attached to me. So I'm afraid that won't be happening. I quite like my arse where it is, thank you._

 

Was he - dare he say it -, was he  _flirting_ with Flint? This counted as flirting right? Or was it friendly banter? Whatever it was, the Flint family's falcon looked exhausted as he brought the final letter as Percy was about to step into the shower. 

 

_So I guess that means you're mine. Even at least for today._

 

His face  _burned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever hated my writing as much as I did in this chapter. Well. At least I can use the next one to cover up for this. 
> 
> \- Asura


	4. Adrenaline

Flint was late. 

 

God, he was _so_   _late_ and why in the name of Merlin had Percy thought he'd even come? Of course a star Chaser would have more important things to do on a Sunday, more interesting people to hang out with than socially awkward  _Percy Weasley_. Of course he wouldn't come. Percy didn't even blame him. The redhead chewed the already-bruised inside of his cheek and twisted his sweaty fingers together nervously. 

 

Heart hammering in his chest, Percy sighed and resigned himself to Flooing into the Burrow alone. Again. 

Maybe he could tell his mother Flint was ill. Took a bludger straight to the stomach. 

He winced. That sounded terrible even in his head. 

 

Alright, he could do this.  _He could do this_. Just step into the fireplace.   
  
Why was it so hard? 

He felt like he was leaving something behind, but he had the giant box of iced tarts balanced precariously in one hand, wand in his robe pocket, 60's wine tucked safely under his arm and- and no one to hold his other hand. 

Percy snorted. What was he, three? To need someone to hold his hand for comfort. 

 

But he wanted the comfort.  _Craved_ it. Wanted the warmth of Marcus' big hands radiating through his skin and bone-deep. Wanted those gentle eyes on him. He could imagine it. 

 

"Fucking hell," he hissed. He needed to- needed to just  _let go_. It wasn't going to happen. 

 

But wasn't it? 

 

Of course it was. He was going to wait here until the twat showed up. He wasn't going to suffer the din of the Weasley clan alone, Flint had better-

 

His train of thought broke off as the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation's Floo flared to life and Percy stared wide-eyed as a ridiculously good-looking wizard stepped out with a grimace and soot on his cloak. 

  
" _Flint?_ "

 

Said man looked up and pursed his lips together. "Weasley." 

 

Percy stared. Flint looked... he looked  _good._  Percy didn't know what he found so attractive in his (only technically, now, since Percy's had his dick in his mouth) arch-nemesis, but the cropped dark hair and arched brows and those soft lips pressing together did things for Percy's libido that even teenage hormones couldn't.  _Only technically, of course_. Percy coughed, and extended a free hand. 

"Thank you for accepting my offer. I'm indebted to you for this." 

 

Flint's brows quirked up in amusement. "Yes, I suppose you are." And before Percy could even start a conversation, Flint - Marcus - took his elbow and tugged him toward the fireplace. Percy shouted the familiar address, and there was a tugging behind his navel before they crash-landed into his childhood home's fireplace. The grate smacked against his shin, a sharp hiss of pain and Marcus' heavy hand on his hip, and they had arrived. 

 

Percy stood and - oh, - how naturally Marcus took his side, taking the bottle of wine from his hand as he was crushed in hug after hug from various people. He identified his mother's scent, Ginny's perfume, Charlie's leather jacket, his father's motor oil smell and he was pulled away from Marcus as the jovial family greeted a son and brother who had been missing for far too long. The Weasleys thrived on tactile affection, and Percy was no different. He wrapped arms around anyone and everyone he could reach before the havoc died down and Rose stepped forward with a wild gleam in her eyes. 

 

"Is that...  _Marcus Flint_?" 

 

And all thirty-odd pairs of eyes were on the Chaser, who shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. Percy stumbled as Molly not-so-subtly shoved him forward and stood beside his... boyfriend, as his family gawked at them. 

"It is. He's- he's my partner." The last of the sentence died down to a whisper; a crimson blush burned its way to Percy's cheeks, and he startled as rough fingers slipped against his. Stared down at their entwined hands and glanced up, a small smile for the ex-Slytherin who was studiously ignoring him for the worn-out carpet. 

 

He looked back up at their family. "This is Marcus, my partner," he said determinedly. "And Marcus, this is my ridiculously huge family that- that you're now a part of." This time, he didn't meet Flint's eyes but looked at the grin Bill was giving him. 

"Does that mean we get free tickets to his games?" a voice pitched in, and Percy's eyes snapped up to George, who gave him a wan smirk. 

Harry snorted, and the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. 

 

Marcus didn't answer, but the tension dissipated from his broad shoulders and everyone stepped back to give the new couple space. Hugo snitched the box of tarts and disappeared up the stairs with Lily and Albus, giggling all the way. Percy huffed out a laugh, turning to the man at his side.

 

"I hope they didn't make you too uncomfortable," he smiled.

 

Marcus shook his head, and then shrugged. "I knew I should have expected something like this, but Merlin's pants, Weasley, you have a big family. You really do breed like rabbits."

A sharp laugh broke out of Percy's mouth and Marcus put the wine bottle on a cabinet, taking his cloak off and dropping it over a couch.

 

And Percy's heart rate picked up. Because this man was _gorgeous_ and Percy couldn't think of anything else but wrapping arms around those shoulders and legs around that lean waist, but he needed to  _focus,_ because Marcus had given no indication that he wanted anything to do with Percy. But Merlin, if he  _would_ -

 

"Is there any topic during conversation I ought to avoid?" Marcus asked, bits of his harsh 'pureblood upbringing' showing through as he flecked dust off his shoulder and stood to attention, eyes unreadable as he glanced around the overstuffed, cozy room. Percy wondered if he was analyzing if it was up to his standards or not. The Burrow was not one's typical home, standing over four stories high and tipping precariously to the left, infested with gnomes and people sitting on every available surface to be together, but it was Percy's home, regardless of how much he had hated it as an adolescent. And he would not allow anyone - even Marcus Flint -  to make him feel as ashamed of his house as Hogwarts had. 

  
Wasted youth.

   
However, the man had been raised in an elitist family, and Percy could not blame him for having specific ideals of what a pureblood home  _ought to_ look like. 

So he stepped up to Marcus and slapped his hands away, ignoring the mild look of indignation he received. "Yes," he murmured, brushing the slight smattering of dust off the charcoal-grey button-up. "Do not mention Fred at all. Unless George directly asks you, which I highly doubt he will." He brushed his fingers over the collar, teasing. Boldly dragged fingertips over the sensitive skin of Flint's throat, stopping with a nail at his Adam's apple. "Try not to talk about Hogwarts' House rivalry. Keep it to a minimum; we're encouraging friendly relations among the next generation children." 

Flint inhaled sharply; the skin beneath Percy's hand shifted slightly as he swallowed with a nod. "I'll try." 

"Good. And please don't accidentally insult anyone in my family. I know you're humoring me by doing this, but I'd appreciate everyone coming out as unscathed as possible." The last sentence was a request, the two men's faces were so close that Percy could count Flint's individual lashes as they fluttered.

Warm breath against his lips.  
The only response he got was a hot mouth enveloping his, fingers tight on his waist.  
Percy was slightly dizzy, the pace Marcus set harsh and unrelenting, as though he wanted nothing more than to claim Percy's mouth so thoroughly he would be spoiled for anyone else.   
  
But wasn't he already? 

There was no tongue or teeth, just a cruel press of lips and Percy moaned at how  _filthy_ it was, kissing a man who he'd bickered with throughout school in the middle of the empty living room on his brother's marriage anniversary. Anyone could walk in, yet see nothing so vividly graphic, but his heart was pounding so hard he was sure Marcus could feel it. Hands scrabbling for purchase on those lovely shoulders; he wrapped his arms around Flint's neck and crushed himself impossibly closer. He needed to show him how he felt. How the ex-Slytherin made his eyes tear up and throat close with emotions he couldn't place. Marcus just barely pulled away, breathing hard against Percy's lips and placed slow kisses as gentle as his gaze on the redhead, who felt like he was drowning.

He probably was.

And that was okay.

He would have continued but the loud pounding of footsteps running down the rickety stairs forced him to keep his mouth to himself. But he kept his hands where they were, lightly carding his fingers through the short hair as they stared at each other with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

 

"I don't-" Flint stopped, clearing his throat. Percy grinned, and he rolled his eyes. "I don't know what this is, but I'd like to continue."

 

Percy was sure his grin turned into the goofiest smile ever. "I'd like to continue, too. I like doing this with you. I want to get to know you." He gazed earnestly at Marcus, who smiled with that little gap between his teeth and Percy figured that this was what he had been missing in his relationship with Penelope. And the couple of men he took home from the bar, obviously. 

"Now come on, we have a dinner to attend."

* * *

Dinner was just a tad bit awkward. 

 

Awkward for Percy, definitely. He was sandwiched between George and Bill, the latter of whom was recounting Percy's cringe-worthy childhood with relishing detail. George was just too busy stuffing treacle tart into his giant maw - a tactic he'd discovered allowed him to escape any conversation - to help salvage his dignity. At least he didn't tense whenever anyone recounted stories with Fred in it, but Percy kept a hand on the back of his chair just in case. 

"- and George says, 'at least you won't find dragon dung in your in-tray like you did the last time', but ol' Perce here genuinely thought it was a special fertilizer for his Monkshood flowers from  _Norway_ , which actually isn't far off, if you think about it-"

"Oi! That was one time!" Percy protested, ears red. 

"Oh! I do remember the time Percy wet his pants as a child, when we went to an amusement park." Molly butt in, clapping her hands together. Flint snorted in surprise, coughing caramel custard back out and Percy glared at him. 

"It was the gift store." Ginny ever-so-helpfully supplied, eyes dancing with laughter at her elder brother, who pouted and slunk lower in his seat.

"And we simply had nothing to do but usher him out-"

"I had told you ten times that I had to use the loo." Percy stabbed his chicken wing, grumbling. 

"And he had to walk back to the motel in nothing but his pants." Molly finished to uproarious laughter, and even Percy had to admit his lips twitched up into the barest of smiles. His eyes met dark grey, and he stuck his lower lip out in mock-irritation. 

 

After dinner, Percy slipped out onto the porch as everyone cleaned up (he had picked up three dishes and cleaned the cutlery, thank you very much). 

It was a pleasant night, and Percy sighed as he sat on the porch steps to gaze out into the dark night. He just- needed a moment alone. 

 

It had taken him a long time to come to the point where he was comfortable with his family making fun of him, especially in front of his friends. Not that he had had many. 

The Weasleys were a loving family, there was no doubt about it. But Percy understood why he had felt so at home even in the Ministry, where no one knew his name; at least they acknowledged him for the hard work and academic talent he possessed. It was not to say he didn't love his family. They were dear to him in ways he could not explain, but they had never understood him.  
Marked him off as a pious, pompous, overachiever when all he had wanted was to make them proud, but never received guidance or even positive reinforcement on how to do so. 

Charlie, who worked with  _dragons_ , for goodness' sake. And Bill, the cursebreaker with his fang earrings and dragonhide boots who all young boys had looked up to with awe in their eyes.   
George (and Fred), who impressed everyone with their quick wit and ingenious curses. Ron, who Percy was so  _proud_ of, for solving the most difficult chess game in Wizarding history, and being brave enough to take on Voldemort. And of course, Ginny, the only girl of them all who was loved as the youngest. 

But what was Percy? 

It had plagued him for years; sleepless nights spent lying awake in bed with silent tears streaming down the bridge of his nose. What was he? He didn't want to be written off in the history textbooks as the one line on 'Ronald Weasley, and one of his elder brothers who played a role in the Great War'; he was more than that, wasn't he? 

 

The door creaked open and Percy glanced up, a smile lighting up his face when he saw Flint. 

 

"Molly said I might find you here," he said, plopping down beside Percy. 

 

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Percy asked, and Marcus grinned his sharp smile. "More than you could imagine." 

 

Percy laughed, scooting closer to the man's radiating warmth. "I'm glad."

 

They stayed in silence for a while, shoulders brushing and listening to the other's deep breathing.  
  
Percy invariably went back to his previous stream of thought, and the negativity seeped into his mind as he recounted the resentment he felt whenever he succeeded: prefect, Head Boy, highest grades, Ministry official,  _anything_ , and all he got was a, "Oh, are you a  _prefect_ , Percy?" or being called Weatherby, even the twins jinxing his badges to say 'Pinhead' or 'Bighead Boy'. The old anger made him tense, and Marcus seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere, glancing over at the redhead who had a deep crease between his eyebrows. 

Marcus knew Weasley wouldn't want to share his thoughts with him just yet; they barely knew each other beyond being old acquaintances, and he didn't want to break the fragile trust they were slowly building. He remembered the way Percy had moaned into his mouth and the thin fingers scratching against his scalp. So he leaned closer to the redhead and sneaked an arm around his waist. If for nothing else, it would ensure someone in Weasley's extensive family saw them and confirmed that they were truly dating. Though at this point, Marcus was sure he wouldn't mind having a go at this ridiculous, hyperactive, oddly charming, phenomenal-snog of a man. 

 

 _My huge family, that you're now a part of._ The memory made Marcus want to smile, and he looked down at Percy who had slowly started to relax into his side. 

 

"Thank you for coming." It was hardly a whisper, but Flint heard it nonetheless. He tightened his grip around Weasley's waist in response, and the man hummed his satisfaction. 

"You know-" Marcus started, and Percy peered up at him through those horn-rimmed glasses, "I didn't actually mean to make this deal about sex. I just thought that, well, we started off on that note..." he trailed off, silently pleading for Weasley to get the hint. 

"So we ought to make our incentives such." Percy nodded as he finished the thought, and Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah."

"But it doesn't have to be that way anymore. If you want, we can do the whole wine & dine, and I'll attend all your quidditch matches and we can do- things. Together." Percy cut himself off, realizing how eager he sounded. But a look at Marcus showed that he seemed pretty at ease with the idea. 

 

"Are you even interested in quidditch?" A raised brow. 

 

Percy sniffed. "You learn a thing or two when you have an overenthusiastic best friend who refuses to talk about much else." 

 

Marcus snorted. "You have a weird way of asking men out, Weasley. Do you always pretend to have them as your boyfriends in front of your family and then make them fall for you?" 

 

A teasing smile. "That would be the case if said man was around six foot with a magically repaired jawline and gorgeous grey eyes."

 

A sharp bark of laughter, and Marcus bumped his head against Percy's gently. "Sounds good to me."

 

He would remember the smile Percy gave him as they sat on the Burrow's porch one August night, the redhead wrapped in Marcus' arms.

 

"Yeah." 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AM I LATE. WHAT YEAR IS IT.  
> And I actually did accidentally pee in a Disneyland gift store. I am so sorry.  
> Oh my god just have sex already. 
> 
> \- Asura


	5. Tell Me How You've Never Felt

Percy stumbled out of his fireplace with a box full of tomes and random books, with Marcus following gracefully after him.

 

"Make yourself at home, I'll just put these away," he called out behind him, walking toward the storage cabinet. This would, Percy figured, give Marcus enough time to leave if he wanted to.

 _Or maybe,_ a hopeful part of Percy thought, _he'd stay and spend the day._ And night. He wasn't even sure if that's what he ought to expect from this day, but damned if he wasn't prepared. He knew these spells. The... sexual intercourse ones.

 

He could do this. _Act completely normal, Percy_ , he hissed to himself, dumping the box on a shelf and heading back out, where Marcus was casually looking around before he spotted the telly. His expression turned from polite disinterest to fascination, walking toward the box.

 

"What in the name of _Salazar_ is that?" he asked, hesitantly touching the screen's surface.

 

Percy frowned. "What, the telly?"

 

"Is that what it's called?" Marcus looked flabbergasted as Percy explained how the Muggle device worked. "You can see _people_ in it? Are they real? Can I touch them? Let's take a look, then. How do you... turn it on?"

 

Percy blinked, clearly thrown off from his ideas of any sex. But this was worth it, the look of excitement on Marcus' face when Percy pressed the power button and the device came to life, an advertisement on vegetable peelers lighting up the minutely-pixelated screen. Marcus touched it, seemingly amazed by the woman's movement. "I can't touch her?"

 

"Er, no. It's more of a recording. There are television signals that this box captures, and broadcasts it in the screen. It's mostly advertisements and movies. Entertainment. Infotainment." Percy was at a loss at how to explain a telly's workings, he barely understood it himself. His father had always kept one in the garage, and Percy grew up with watching it on Saturdays. Barney, mostly. That purple. Percy shuddered.

 

"Muggles truly are innovative creatures," Flint remarked absently, still referring to them as another species and Percy's lips quirked up in an indulgent smile. "They've created such wonders for their entertainment, yet have such brutal wars. We aren't so different, eh?"

Percy stepped up beside him, gazing at the finely-sliced slivers of carrot the woman was showing off on the screen. "No," he said softly, "not so different at all."

 

"May we watch a movie?" Marcus asked formally, but his expression belied one of an over-enthusiastic child.

 

Percy laughed, the hopeful expression too much to refuse. "Of course. Noodles and movies it is."  

* * *

Three hours and over seventeen movies later (Marcus demanded control over the 'remote' after Percy showed him how to use it) and Percy felt like his eyeballs were about to fall out of his skull. He groaned quietly, stretching across the Chesterfield and propping his feet onto Marcus' lap, who distractedly pushed them off.

 

Percy snorted.

The greasy vegetable noodles had left him sleepy, and he watched with half-lidded eyes as Marcus nearly raised the spoonful of Squirming Peppermint ice cream to his nose as on-screen Bucky Barnes beat up Captain America on the- contraption. Helicopter? Helicarrier, if he remembered correctly.

 

"How is he still alive? I didn't think-" Marcus frowned, setting the ice cream down on the coffee table and leaning forward.

 

"Magic," Percy smirked, scooting forward to sit beside Flint, leaning slightly.

 

Marcus _tsked_ , and shifted to allow Percy to burrow just a little deeper into his side. The end credits began to roll, and Marcus immediately flipped to another channel.

 

Percy stared unseeing at the screen, eyes flickering to the window, then the clock. It was six forty-five, and Percy knew it wasn't a sensible idea to sleep now, but the heat radiating from the man beside him and the comfortable position was too good to give up. He was so close to falling asleep, so he turned his face into Marcus' neck, breathing in the soft scent of musk-pine aftershave. The man in question didn't seem to notice, and Percy in his half-awake stupor pressed his lips beneath Marcus' ear.

He definitely felt Flint stiffen up then.

 

"Sorry," Percy breathed against his throat, suddenly wide awake in the light of his embarrassment, and moved to inch away a little. But Flint held tight to his shoulders, cupping his jaw to turn his face and kiss the redhead good and proper. Percy moaned his surprise, the sound caught between their joined mouths.

 

It was steady, the press of lips and minute movements; Percy raised a hand to circle the wrist touching his jaw. Eyes slid shut, and he breathed out through his nose, not realizing how tense he had been - even near unconsciousness - before Marcus decided to coax him mellow with a simple swipe of his tongue across Percy's lower lip.

 

Slow, so slowly, Percy raised himself with considerable effort put in by one whose body is heavy with slumber, and swung a leg across to straddle the Chaser.

It was pretty well worth the extra effort, as Marcus slid careful hands down his back and Percy shuddered, exhaling against his lips. Warm palms came to rest on his lower back, just above the swell of his arse and he slipped his tongue inside Flint's mouth, all gentle encouragement and unhurried excitement.

 

He toyed with the hem of Flint's shirt, moving to unbutton it at a lazy pace more out of a desire to keep his mouth fused to the ex-Slytherin's for as long as he could, than the inability of his minutely-shaking fingers to get the bloody buttons to unbutton.

Not that he would admit it. It was a win-win situation either way.

Marcus shifted forward to allow Percy to tug his shirt off of his shoulders, dropping it beside them on the ever-action-inspiring Chesterfield. The redhead placed a hand on Flint's chest and pushed him back, the man going easily with a small 'oof'. Slate grey eyes gleamed up at him, narrowed as he leaned his head back, letting Percy admire the sight of a quidditch-seasoned torso and the tender skin of his throat, the red flush traveling up his cheeks and anticipating gaze.

 

"You're rather beautiful," was out of Percy's mouth before he could properly form the thought, and for a moment the two men stared at each other.

 

Percy coughed delicately.

 

A smile curved up Flint's lips. "Rather?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Rather." And he was kissing Marcus again, fingers tightening their grip on muscled shoulders as Marcus slipped his tongue into Percy's mouth.

 

There was slick and vehemence, and Percy felt his chest vibrate with a moan but he couldn't tell whether it was his or Marcus'. He squeezed his thighs tight around Flint's hips, pressing himself harder, closer to the man. The urgency was creeping back in, the need to show Marcus how much this meant to him.

 

But- "Oi," Percy huffed, "hands back on my arse, mate."

 

Marcus buried his face in the joint of Percy's neck and shoulder, laughing. "You mean _my_ arse?"

Percy tugged at his short hair in retribution, but said nothing.

 

Marcus looked up, smile still wide and said, "Let me take you to bed."

The answering smile he received was nothing short of enthusiastic. "Thought you'd never ask."

 

So enthusiastic, actually, that as he moved back to get off of Marcus - completely forgetting that they were sitting on a couch, because _honestly,_ when you have a man like this in front of you why bother with other logistics? - Percy promptly slid right off the damned Chesterfield, with an completely-dignified yelp, right on his arse.

 

He's lucky he didn't hit the coffee table, eh?

Surprised grey eyes peered down at him on the floor. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing?"

 

Percy sniffed. "Going to the room, of course."

 

Marcus looked like he was suppressing a full-blown laugh, but his lips twitched upward and Percy scowled. "Well, don't just stand there, Flint. Do something."

 

Flint rolled his eyes and stood up. Gingerly stepped over Percy's splayed legs and walked toward the bedroom (because _of course_ he knew where it was), calling, "Get off your lazy arse, Weasley. We haven't got all night."

“You mean get _me_ off with your lazy arse,” Percy said, hoping it would trip the other man up.

 

“Don’t overestimate your abilities, Weasley.”

 

Percy practically spluttered in his indignation, wanting to point out that it was almost seven and by no means nighttime. He excused the mildly-embarrassing way he scrambled to his feet and stumbled while taking his shoes and socks off like an eager puppy going after the stunning Chaser because, well, some things weren't meant to be done gracefully.

 

He walks into his room to see Marcus loosening his tie and tugging it over his head, and assumes they were going to take their clothes off by themselves. Which works for him; whatever to make the proceedings faster.

 

Flint turns, surprised, but shrugs. Pulling his trousers down, he comments, "You know, usually my partner takes my pants off."

 

"Oh, shuddup," comes the muffled reply, Percy struggling to pull his t-shirt over his head. Marcus rolls his eyes. Fond exasperation. "Come here, you twit."

 

He yanks Weasley's shirt off, and eyes the ruffled red hair and askew glasses. Plucks them off of his nose bridge and tosses them on the bed, and finds bright blue eyes on his.

"I have to tell you, I'm quite blind without those."

 

"Can you see my face?"

 

A pause. "I'm also short-sighted."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

Percy gives him a look, and Marcus is impressed that he can look so disdainful even without his glasses on.

"I can't see far off objects, Flint."

 

"So why do you wear them all the time?"

Weasley opens his mouth, closes it again, and frowns. Marcus smirks. "Well, it's easier." Percy mumbles as Marcus pulls his belt through the loops. Rough palms lay flat on his hip bones, and Percy shudders as they drag up his sides. Marcus stops at a silvery, faded scar extending from his pectoral to navel, eyes questioning. Percy gazes back at him steadily, offering no explanation. He just steps back and sits down on the bed, pulling his own trousers down but leaving his pants on.

 

However, Flint is now unabashedly naked, and Percy's breath catches somewhere in his throat. Because- well, he really is beautiful. It's all an expanse of tanned skin stretched taut over hard-earned muscle, and his eyes savour the sight before lowering to Marcus' erection, and Percy squirms.

 

He really did get lucky. When he voices this thought, Marcus smiles that sharp smile of his and asks, "How do you want to do this?"

And Percy blushes. It's been a long time, and he doesn't know if Marcus is comfortable with being on top, but, "I'd prefer to be on my knees, if that's alright with you. But I'm... flexible." He grins, but Flint's eyes are dark and heavy on him.

 

"More than alright. On your knees then, lovely."

 

And Percy knows that's an endearment that would be his weakness now, because he flips over pants-on immediately, lowering onto his elbows.

 

But he's nervous, now.

It's been a long time, and Percy's not sure if Marcus would be alright with doing this. Godric, what if he sees Percy naked and starts laughing? That wouldn't even be all that bad, but Percy isn't sure what kind of lover Marcus would be.

His kisses were warm and melting, attitude relaxed toward sex, but actual _penetration_ \- Percy was worried. He could feel his heart slamming in his chest and breath coming in short pants, suddenly wishing Flint would just prepare him already and get on with it. _At least open your thighs, you idiot_ , Percy scolds himself. But no matter how he tries, he can't get himself to lessen the lock of his muscles.

 

But then there was a hand on his waist and Marcus' concerned voice, "Percy? You alright?"

 

"I- sorry, I'm-" Percy blinked, finding himself pulled back on his haunches.

 

"We don't need to do this if you don't want to." He can feel Marcus settling behind him, and he leans back against his bare chest.

 

A shaky exhale. "No, no. I'm just- It's been a while. Go slow?"

 

A kiss on his shoulder. "Of course, freckles."

 

Percy huffs out a small laugh. "Tell me something I don't know."

 

"I think they're attractive, actually," and Marcus' calloused fingertips are pressing into his shoulders, squeezing and moving to the nape of his neck.

Percy lets out a moan, and Flint stops for a bare second before continuing. "Keep moaning like that and I'll be doing a lot more than massaging you." Flint's voice is slightly hoarse, and Percy can feel his arousal pressed up right the crack of his arse. Flint is meticulously working out the tension in his shoulders, thumbs digging in both sides of his spine, and he could feel himself melt into the warmth behind him.

 

"God, you're perfect," he slurred, already feeling blissed-out and sluggish. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to fall asleep." He warned, and Marcus immediately stopped. Percy wanted to cry at the loss of those comforting, big hands on him. He'd make sure to get them back where they now belonged as soon as possible.  

 

When Marcus pushed him back onto his knees, Percy went willingly. He didn't know what just happened, but the short massage - or maybe just the firm pressure and care - made Percy all gooey on the inside, and he tried to will his erection back, with little success. He wondered if Marcus would notice.

"Do you have any lubricant?"

 

"Huh?" Percy took a moment to process the question. Frowned. "What do you need lube for? Use your wand, it's easier."

 

He could almost feel the eye roll behind him. "Just tell me where it is."

 

"Er, there might be a tube in the third drawer beside you." Some rustling, and a pleased sound told him Marcus had indeed found it. "Oh brilliant, it's watermelon and _kiwi_ -flavored. Great choice, Weasley."

 

"Shut up," Percy blushed, "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Didn't think of it for this purpose anyway."

 

Marcus sighed. Percy bit his lower lip when he felt fingers snag at the elastic of his pants and tug them off, cold air hitting his privates, killing off any hope of an erection he was hoping to achieve. Maybe he was too old for this.

 

"Merlin." Marcus sounded awed, almost reverent.

 

"What?" Percy asked, suddenly self-conscious. He had cleaned himself well today, so- "You really do have freckles _everywhere_."

 

Percy froze. "Are you bloody serious right now?"

 

Marcus didn't respond, so he groaned. "Will you just get on with it; I'm growing old here." This did nothing but earn him a pinch on his arse. A moment later, he felt cold wetness on his crack.

A hiss as Marcus spread his cheeks with one hand, circling his instinctively clenched hole with a finger.

 

He went easy, just barely pressing against Percy's entrance before his rough voice said, "Relax for me," and Percy did. His finger nudged in, and it was as strange a feeling as any, but Percy exhaled slowly once Flint began to push a second inside after a minute. There was a hand on his lower back, "Alright?"

 

"Y-yeah. Go slow, just don't stop."

Marcus smiled, and did as asked. His fingers slipped in and out of Percy's fluttering hole, and when he scissored them, there was a sharp intake of breath. "Why-," Percy cleared his throat, "Why are you doing this?"

 

"Because Muggles do, and it's said to be pleasurable." Marcus answers, crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion as his hand slipped down to Percy's sac.

 

Percy buried his face in his arms. A strangled laugh as Flint pressed down on his lower back, oh-so-carefully prodding his ring finger in beside the other two.

 

 _I can do this. Just relax. Bloody hell, this is more uncomfortable than I remember it,_ Percy inwardly complained, but said, "Marcus F-Flint listening to - oh _Christ_ that hurts - muggles now? The world must be- _nghh,_ " was how he ended his sentence, hips bucking forward uselessly as Marcus just barely grazed against his prostate, the pleasure sudden and short-lived. "Merlin, do that again." He demanded breathlessly, and Marcus chuckled.

 

"Patience, freckles. We have time."

 

"You're the one who said-" And he snapped his mouth shut when he felt something slick and _warm_ on his perineum. He realized a moment too late that Marcus' _tongue_ was on his arsecrack.

 

The Chaser touched the tip of his tongue to Percy's hole, and Percy _jerked_ hard because it was so, so very dirty but he couldn’t stop the guttural moan that pushed itself past his lips, his head hanging between trembling shoulders.

"Mar-Marcus, don't-" he barely managed to get out before letting out a whimper as he felt Marcus slip his tongue in beside his fingers. It was absolutely filthy and Percy was impossibly aroused, flustered, disconcerted by the foreign feeling of someone's _mouth_ in a place it had no business being. But when Marcus took his fingers out, held Percy's cheeks obscenely wide open only to fasten his mouth to Percy's clenching hole and _suck_ , Percy keened.

His fingers turned white from the strain of clutching the sheets, and he fell forward on his chest, arse in the air and held secure by Flint's hands. He could _feel_ Marcus' tongue gliding in and out of his hole, and a mix of kiwi lube and saliva dripping down his balls.

 

He knows he’s panting; whines escaping his clenched teeth and it was so very intense, so like Marcus to try and make a mess out of him. Quite literally. So very perfect.

 

He knew Marcus won't be able to touch his prostate this way, but it was a testament to how much he was enjoying his disintegration when his cock bounced against his stomach as he pushed himself back against the tongue laving, plundering his arse. Wanton.

Heat was uncoiling in his lower abdomen and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control it.

 

 _Those Muggles might actually be right,_ Percy thought hazily.  
This was far better than just using spells. Probably wouldn’t ever use them again after this. It occurred to him Marcus might be getting tired, so with behemoth effort he reached back, tugging on the short hair.

Marcus pulled his mouth away, and slipped his fingers back inside.

 

There was a soft squelching sound, which made Percy's face heat up faster than it did when he had Flint's tongue in his arse.  

 

" _Merlin_ , Percy, I can't-", his voice was beyond rough, dripping arousal and Percy turned to frown. Flint took a shaky breath, eyes plastered to the redhead's arse. "You're wrecking me here. I'm not sure I can-" he trailed off, Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallowed.

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Percy hissed, glaring. "I have three fingers and your _tongue_ up my arse and _you_ can't take it?"

 

Flint just stared back at him helplessly, eyes dark and color high on his cheeks. Percy groaned. "Please just fuck me already."

"I'll make love to you, freckles;" Percy arched his back as Marcus slid a hand up his spine, "make it so good for you; you won't have anyone else." There was an unfaltering level of possessiveness in Marcus' gravelly tone, as though he knew he wouldn't be refuted. He was probably right.

 

Percy wanted to tell him he didn’t think he could have anyone else now, either.

"Yes," he breathed, going lax under the heavy hand. It was going to be uncomfortable, he knew, but Marcus would make it good for him.

 

Percy could trust him.

 

He still watches Marcus slip on a condom just in case. 

* * *

And he did. When Marcus - finally - pushed his cockhead inside, Percy held his breath.

Slow exhale. Was it his or his partner's? 

 

He felt Marcus bottom out. A choked gasp forced its way out of the redhead's throat, the feeling of being so  _full_ indescribable and yet so explicit it left him incoherent and overwhelmed. It really had been a long time. 

 

Marcus ground his hips hard against Percy's arse; so deep with his front plastered to Percy's back, one hand splayed on his chest and the other intertwining with pale fingers. "Bloody hell," Percy sighs. Flint fucks into him in thorough, short thrusts, and Percy squeezes his fingers tighter.

It's so good. 

 

 _He's so good_ , and Percy wants to tear up with the sudden swell of emotion. But he's already so close to toppling off the metaphorical edge. Marcus shifts, hands digging impressions into Percy's waist and the smooth glide of his cock slows to a languorous roll of the hips. Percy's breath catches. Marcus pauses to squeeze more lube onto where they're so intimately connected, and the redhead shivers at the cold. Percy pushes his hips back, encouraging the Chaser on. It works- Marcus groaned as Percy's walls tighten around his cock for a moment, and he leans back forward and a sense of urgency creeps into their shagging.    

Percy mewls; Marcus is brushing against his prostate with every rough stroke in, breathing lewd promises in a broken voice in his ear. Marcus wraps a lube-clicked hand around Percy's _aching_ cock, palming the head. There's too much sensation, too much passion. He's smearing precum over Percy's cockhead and the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation is a goner. 

 

Gone for Marcus' luminescent grey eyes, his dry humor. The calloused hands and talented mouth and his attempts to be more accepting. The gentle care even as he stretches Percy's cheeks to watch the saturated and puffy hole take his cock so well. Like it was meant for him. Percy swore it was. He'd even get a tattoo.

Maybe not. 

 

Marcus hits Percy’s prostate dead-on the exact moment his hand twists over the head of his cock, and Percy can barely think _perfect coincidental fucking timing_ before he’s pretty sure he blacks out for a moment there as he comes _hard_ , limbs gone useless and vocal cords imitating a dying animal. Likely.

 

It just felt really bloody brilliant, the heat forcing him to arch his back and keen, walls clenching around Marcus’ cock, who’s rhythm stutters and stops.

 

Percy hopes it felt as good for him.

 

There's silence as both men try and get their breath back. Marcus slips out of Percy and the latter grimaces as he feels a mess of lube drip out of his arse. And then there's an unpleasant brush of a Cleaning Charm on his skin - wandless, _very impressive, Flint_ -, and he mumbles his thanks, gingerly sitting back. Marcus falls flat on the bed beside him, heaving a sigh and steel eyes gleaming, satiated. Percy crawls up to him, slipping a leg between his partner's, mindful of their sensitive privates now. He throws an arm over the muscled chest and rests his chin on Marcus' pectoral. 

 

They smile at each other for a moment, Flint's hand coming up to caress Percy's cheek. "Was that good for you?" Percy asks, eyes sliding shut. Marcus brushes over his nose bridge, "More than good. You're very... uninhibited. I like that."

"Careful, Flint, can't have you using too many big words." Percy lazily ribbed, receiving a poke on his cheek for his efforts. 

 

"You know," Marcus begins seriously, and Percy cracks an eye open, "I think this might be turning into a kink for me, Weasley. Better watch out, I'll want you like this every time," he teased, eyes warm and content. "Though I'd prefer you on top of me, I'd get to actually touch all these." His fingers trail over the freckles on Percy's shoulder and down his side. 

 

"I'd like that. Maybe tomorrow morning? Because I really don't think I'm young enough to do something that intense again." Percy grins as Marcus laughs. It's a pleasant sound.  

 

"Where have you been all my life?" Marcus asks, ruffling Percy's hair. 

 

The redhead rolls his eyes. "Right in front of you."

 

Marcus nods, grave. "That's true." He reaches to tug Percy forward, who comes willingly. It's tender and fond, and Percy smiles into it. 

 

It's a good place to be.    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING FINALLY. 
> 
> This took me over 7 hours to write why was it so hard. I have never written smut (totally giggling throughout) and SupernaturalMystery306, I hope this was better than "just lube lube fingering big penis ejaculation no cleaning up sleep cuddled". As you can see I got super bored after the oral sex. But attempts have been made :P 
> 
> I had to finish this faster than I knew I could because you're beautiful and don't let anyone let you feel otherwise.
> 
> Downwiththewind, you're <3 
> 
> \- Asura


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